Gundam Wing: The Trinity Affair
by Glamorous Glue
Summary: The Gundam boys are called to the island of Trinity to stop some assassins and mayhem ensues. Some yaoi, some graphic violence but mostly just funny. A work in progress. 3X4, 1X2, 5X13
1. Assassination Attempt

Chapter One

Chapter One

Trowa could feel Quatre's naked torso shift within his arms, waking him from his sleep. "What is it Quatre?" he asked in a groggy, tired voice. 

"The phone," said Quatre, "the phone's ringing."

Trowa could now hear the faint buzzing in the other room. He turned to face the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was four o'clock in the morning! Who would be calling them then? He thought about it for a moment and then realized he knew the answer…

"It's probably Duo," Quatre said.

"Yeah," Trowa said, "he'll be fine. Let's go back to sleep." With that he twisted his arms around his lover and closed his eyes.

"But what if it's an emergency?" Quatre chirped in a nervous voice. "We better pick it up!" 

Trowa knew that he was right, he got up out of bed and slipped into his robe before walking to the kitchen to answer the phone. "Hello?" he answered.

"Trowa?" a familiar voice asked.

"Duo? Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't know, six or seven?" 

"It's four a.m."

"Oh…" Duo said sheepishly. "Is that a problem?"

"Only if you like to sleep," Trowa told him. Trowa wondered if Duo had left his penthouse suite at all in the last few months since Heero Yuy, his one-time lover had up and disappeared without so much as a courteous note saying where he went. He felt bad for Duo, and so did Quatre, so they invited him to stay at Raberba-Winner apartments with them. "When was the last time you saw daylight, Maxwell?" he asked.

"Well, that's why I'm calling," he said, "I wanted to know if you and Quatre wanted to go out for a walk or play a game of tennis or something…"

"Duo, I think Quatre and I would like to sleep right now, we'll stop by in the morning."

"What about going bowling? I have an extra pair of balls!" Duo offered.

"That's okay, Duo…you can keep your balls to yourself," he said. "Right now, we're going to sleep. Call us in the morning," with that he lay the phone down on the hook and proceeded back to their bedroom.

"Is Duo okay?" Quatre asked him, concerned. 

"He's fine," Trowa said hopping into bed, "nothing a little social activity couldn't fix. He just needs to get out more and get over Heero Yuy."

Quatre nodded. "I worry about him, Trowa. He never sleeps and his apartment smells funny. We've got to do something about it."

Trowa wrapped his body around Quatre's. "Close your eyes, cherub. Let's go to sleep, we'll worry about Duo in the morning."

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Quatre worried.

Trowa sighed, he could tell that Quatre wasn't going to get back to sleep. But Quatre's concern for others was one of things he loved so much about him. "Everything will be fine," Trowa said.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep now," Quatre said.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Trowa told him, slipping his arms around Quatre before giving him a deep long kiss.

Quatre smiled, pulling the sheets over their heads.

################################################

Duo Maxwell dropped the phone and sighed. They must have thought he was pathetic, calling in the middle of the night, looking for attention like an annoying little brother. Trowa and Quatre had been so good to him since Heero left; they even gave him his own penthouse courtesy of Quatre's Winner family fortune. 

But as nice as they were to spend time with him, Duo couldn't stand feeling like a charity case. He was a talented, capable pilot. He kicked serious ass in the wars and the last thing he needed from anybody was pity. At least that's what he told himself, but when it came time to put that talent and capability to use he found that he would rather order another pizza and watch some television.

Heero Yuy, that bastard jerk had really done a number on him. He just left one day, without saying anything. After months of great sex…gone, with no explanation. Duo had no clue what to say to that, he thought that Heero loved him, even if that sexy little psychopath had never actually uttered the words. 

Duo decided to turn off the television and get ready for the day ahead of him. He stepped into the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. As he looked in the mirror he realized that he hadn't combed his long brown hair in weeks, and now it stared back at him like a tangled scary mess. How had he let it go this far? When did he start letting himself go and why didn't Quatre and Trowa tell him how pathetic his life had become? Duo tried to put the questions out of his mind to concentrate on cleaning himself up, getting out of the bathrobe and slippers that had been his uniform for the past few months and actually starting to live again. 

He used to be a swinger, after all. There was a time, although it was hardly evident now, when he was never alone between missions, there was always somebody who wanted a little piece of Duo's sweet ass. That made him smile, but in truth, none of them ever compared to Heero. Heero was a challenge. Duo liked challenges, whether it was a dangerous mission or just trying to connect with a very dangerous man.

Maybe that was his problem, the wars were over. The Earth Sphere Alliance and the Colonies both gave up their weapons and the Gundams: Wing Zero, Heavyarms, Sandrock, and his own Deathscythe had all been confiscated and destroyed after the Peace Talks. There was no adventure in his life anymore. He had retired to a simple, domestic life and he had no one to share it with.

Duo walked to his bedroom to find a pair of clean clothes. Instead, he found a little pair of black lycra shorts at the bottom of his closet. Heero must have left them there, he never could figure out how he fit into those little shorts. He picked them up and smelled them. He always loved the way Heero smelled.

Then it hit him…he was sitting in his bathrobe smelling Heero Yuy's underwear! "I really need to go out and get laid," he told himself.

###################################################

Wufei Chang stood silently in the hallway outside of Senator Treize Kushrenada's apartment. He could understand that Earth Alliance Security wanted armed bodyguards at the Senator's side but he couldn't understand why it was necessary for him to guard Kushrenada's apartment while the Senator was out for the night at a party.

There were times Wufei considered just leaving his job as a bodyguard. There was much less honor in being the servant for some stuffed shirt politician than there was in being a Gundam pilot. But the Gundams were gone now, and as much as he resisted the Alliance's efforts to destroy his Gundam, he gave up his mobile suit on his own volition. Now, life was about waiting for the next war to erupt, and Wufei knew that eventually it would. 

Until that time, he had taken a job with Earth Alliance Security. It wasn't what he hoped to be doing with his time but it kept him busy and every so often he saw some action in the line of duty. But he found himself dodging advances from the ever-horny Senator Kushrenada more than he found himself dodging assassins' bullets. 

It made Wufei sick the way Kushrenada was always coming home with men who were much to young for him, and by no means as mature. It was just that kind of behavior that made him flee his fellow Gundam pilots. He couldn't understand why the Senator would act that way for he was completely respectable in every other aspect. He was an excellent speaker, leader and politician as well as a deft swordsman. Wufei admired that but he could not understand why he insisted on dragging his honor through the mud with such unacceptable behavior.

Now, Wufei watched as Kushrenada returned from the party with a giggling, blonde man hanging on his arm. 

"Hello, Wufei," Treize greeted him. "This is Xem, he'll be spending the night with me," he said introducing Wufei to the shirtless young man in the tight leather pants. 

"Hey," the boy giggled at him.

Wufei looked him over and said nothing.

Treize just patted Wufei on the back and entered his apartment with his companion. Wufei followed behind them, still remaining silent and feeling sick to his stomach.

Treize turned to look at him. "Aren't you going to keep post outside?" he asked.

"No. I have orders to watch you under any condition. Your privacy is of no concern to me, Senator. I have seen the horrors of battle, whatever it is you do with that little boy slut of yours if cannot possibly scar me."

Treize smiled. "Okay. I just feel bad, enjoying myself while you're on duty. You can join us if you want. Three is always more fun than two," he said.

"I have no desire to join you Senator," he said.

"It was just a joke, of course," Treize laughed.

Wufei didn't smile.

"You're a barrel of laughs Chang," he said. 

He turned his back to his stoic, young bodyguard to face his companion. Treize took the young man into his embrace and kissed him while unbuckling his pants, before letting them drop to the ground. His companion began to unbutton the senator's shirt. Before the last button, he stopped. "What's wrong?" Treize asked him.

"Is he going to watch us?" the blonde asked, giving Wufei a critical look.

"He likes to watch," Treize said, jokingly.

Wufei could feel his temperature rising. Something inside him desperately wanted to kill the Senator. He wasn't sure why the nymphomaniac's little comments enraged him so much. It was bad enough he had to watch him make love, but his advances just added insult to injury.

Treize kissed his new lover. "Just ignore him," he said. "Let's go take a bath. Chang can wait outside."

"Okay," his lover conceded. 

They went into the bathroom and shut the door behind them.

A trickle of blood spilled from Wufei's nose as they did. His nose always bled in these situations; it was most embarrassing. Something told him that he would need lots of tissues while working for the good Senator Kushrenada. 

#################################################

Treize leaned back in the extra-large whirlpool and let all his thoughts of Wufei Chang wash away. He looked across the tub to see his new companion, Xem, was enjoying himself too. Treize reached out with his legs to rub the young man's thighs with his feet. He loved a little playful foreplay before really getting at. Xem just smiled.

"So, Xem," he said, "what did you think of my bodyguard?"

"I think he's bit of a spaz," Xem said. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"No. Not yet anyway," Treize told him, "I'm sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable."

"Not at all," Xem told him, "but let's not talk about him."

"What do you want to talk about?" Treize asked.

"I'd rather we quit with all the talking, Senator. If you don't have any objections with that?" Xem offered.

"I have absolutely no problem with that," Treize said. "I'm all for putting our mouths to better use than talking." Treize sat up to lean over Xem. He pulled the young man into his embrace as they kissed and fell back into the soapy water.

Xem began to stroke Treize's chest as he kissed his stomach. His head moving slowly down to Treize's crotch as his hands moved upward, massaging his jaw and neck. 

Treize smiled as the man caressed his belly button with his lips. "That's very nice Xem, but let's not beat around the bush. Let's just get to it, alright?"

Xem did not respond. He only looked up at Treize as the hands that once massaged his neck slowly began to constrict. Treize could feel his throat closing, his skin bruising under Xem's touch. "Dammit! Xem…I'm really not into that kinky stuff…loosen up will you…" he pleaded while choking for air.

Xem said nothing. His sexy blue eyes were now cold and scary as they peered up at Treize. That's when Treize realized that this man was trying to kill him. He was strangling him! What the hell was going on?

Treize knew he had to do something. Suddenly, he moved his knee upward under Xem's thighs, kicking him hard in the genitals. Xem's eyes winced in pain but he did not scream or loosen his grip. Treize realized he was a professional, an assassin. 

Everything went black. The next thing he heard was a gunshot. The first thing he thought was that he was dead, but air came filtering through his nose and into his lungs, and in the few tense seconds that he could hear the ringing echo of the gun, his vision returned to him. He blinked and realized that Xem was missing half his face and blood was splattered across the marble furnishing of his bathroom.

He crawled out of the tub, shaken and afraid, to see Wufei standing there in the doorway holding a smoking black gun. Treize stared at his savior, thinking for a moment that he would cry but he turned and sucked it all up, drying the blood and water from his body with a towel. 

"Wufei..." he said, "my hero."

Wufei looked at him. "Shut up," he told him. 

"How'd you know he was attacking me?" Treize asked.

"I know how to do my job," Wufei explained. 

"I think you were just jealous," Treize teased. He tried to laugh, figuring that making a joke would help hide the fact that he was shaken, scared and embarrassingly grateful to his stoic little bodyguard.

Wufei didn't laugh though. He just handed Treize a towel to cover himself in. "No one wants to see you naked, old man."


	2. The Mission

Chapter Two

Treize sat on his sofa, shaking nervously, as he watched Wufei pace across his expensive Oriental rug. Wufei couldn't understand why Treize so nervous, he had been the target of attack before. Wufei had witnessed two attacks himself, knowing of many more that occurred during the wars. None of them had taken place while Treize was naked in his bathtub, though. 

"Would you be so kind as to fetch me some tea while we wait, Wufei?" Treize asked, voice trembling. Wet, covered in blood and soapy water, he looked quite cold sitting there in nothing but a damp towel.

"Do I look like a maid? Do maids carry guns?" Wufei asked him. After giving him a long, cold stare he resumed his impatient pacing around the living room.

"Well, at least sit down. You're making me nervous. You called the police twenty minutes ago, they'll be here soon enough," Treize grumbled.

It was not the Senator's place to tell him to sit, so he kept pacing. "I didn't call the police. Zechs Marquise and Lucrexia Noyn from Earth Alliance Security are coming to investigate the scene."

"Noyn and Zechs? They run Alliance Security, don't they? I'm surprised that they're coming here. You'd think that they would send some lackey wouldn't you?" Treize commented, trying to make some chatter with Wufei.

Actually, it was not unusual for them to visit a prominent Senator like Treize after such an attack but Wufei decided not the mention that, the Senator's ego was large enough. The silence between them grew thicker until finally there was a knock at the door.

Wufei was relieved to find that Zechs and Noyn at the door with a few others wearing Earth Alliance uniforms, carrying forensics equipment. "Finally," Wufei muttered as a greeting.

"Hello, Chang," Noyn said, smiling, leading her team inside before she and Zechs went to the Senator's side. "Are you alright Senator Kushrenada?" she asked, "will you need medical attention?"

"No. I don't need to go to the hospital. I'll just have some bruises on my throat for a while, that's all," he said, feeling the soreness on both sides of his Adam's apple. 

"Well, we'll still want to check your body for poisons. There are some neural toxins which can be transferred through the skin and don't even begin to take effect until hours after the contact," Zechs told him.

Wufei watched as Treize squirmed, pondering that last thought.

Zechs turned his gaze at Wufei. "How was this attack possible? How did this man get this close to Treize? You were on duty, weren't you Chang?" 

Wufei squirmed. "Yes, sir. I insisted that I monitor Kushrenada and his 'guest' but I believe that the Senator wanted some privacy. I couldn't convince him otherwise." 

Treize looked to Wufei then to Zechs. "It's true. I insisted on some privacy but Wufei waited outside the bathroom for me and when he heard the struggle he came in quickly to save me. Wufei has never been anything less than exemplary in my service." 

Wufei felt relieved to be off the hook. He found himself almost returning the gracious smile the Senator shot him. 

"So where is the body?" one of the forensics officers asked. They had been wandering the apartment impatiently, eagerly waiting to shine their florescent lights, powder for fingerprints and put bits of hair in labeled plastic bags.

Leading them to the bathroom, he revealed the grisly scene. It would have turned most stomachs, and did elicit a few audible "ewws" from the rookies, but Wufei had seen worse in the wars. It left him wondering if they would ever be able to clean up all the splattered stains and brain fragments.

"Get me an identity scan," Noyn told them.

A forensics guy carefully stepped into the bathroom, rolling latex gloves onto his fingers. The would-be assassin's body was hunched awkwardly over the edge of the tub, his head submerged into the water. Upon lifting his arm from the soapy water and looking at his hands, the officer realized the fingerprint scanner would be useless, the assassin's fingerprints had been burned off. "Sorry, but this guy was a professional. Trained assassin. He even burned his prints off."

"Damn," Noyn muttered. She pulled a small, compact device from her coat. Wufei recognized the contraption as a facial-scanner. It would take a 3-dimensional scan of a target's face before comparing it to all archived scans in the Alliance's criminal databanks. Noyn approached the body, preparing to use it in order to find the assassin's identity but Wufei knew there was a problem…

Half his goddam head is missing!" Noyn shouted. "This could have been an open and shut case and you decided to shoot him in the face! You're better than that! You're trained to shoot for the chest!"

Wufei turned red, searching for some explanation for his behavior. The one he found within himself, that when he saw the Senator in the grips of that killer, something came over him, something he couldn't explain that didn't let him think clearly, he hardly liked. He couldn't tell them that, they wouldn't understand, so he told her, "You would have done the same, I'm sure," the closest he could muster to an apology.

Noyn sighed, "Get this cleaned up boys," she told her crew before turning her disdainful glare at the young bodyguard. Zechs followed suit. "We'll run the man's gene sample through the databanks but if we come up blank, this case will go in the unsolved pile and it will be your fault," Zechs told him. "Don't screw up again, Chang."

Wufei stared at the floor. He didn't take humiliation well.

"I want to hear you say that you won't screw up again," Noyn said.

Wufei didn't respond. He would take their reprimands, but he would not be degraded by anyone, not even his "superiors."

"C'mon, Wufei. Say it. 'I won't screw up again'," she goaded him.

"I won't screw up…" Wufei muttered, swallowing the thick horse pill that was his pride. He reminded himself to put Lucrexia Noyn down on his list of people to kill once he got the chance. 

"So, what now?" Treize asked. 

Zechs thought for a moment. "I don't want you to leave the city. It's too dangerous. There have been too many assassination attempts against Earth Senators recently. I want you to stay in this area under Wufei's supervision until we can at least run a gene sample through the banks."

Treize frowned. "I can't stay here. I have to leave in two days to go to the Trinity islands. I'm supposed to appear at the Earth Sphere Peace Summit there. I can't miss it."

"You'll have to," Zechs told him.

Wufei had to agree. There had been many assassinations lately. Most recently, Relena Peacecraft was found in her apartment, apparently the victim of a poisoning. The reports said she probably died a painful, excruciating death caused by uncontrollable diarrhea. They found her on the toilet, an issue of Soldier of Fortune resting in her hands, dead. If it wasn't so tragic, it might have been funny.

"I'm a Senator. I wasn't re-elected so I could not do my job out of fear for my life!" Treize told them. "I'm going to Trinity whether you solve the case or not."

Noyn and Zechs grimaced. "If you insist. But we demand that you take Wufei and a team of our best bodyguards with you," Noyn said.

"Fine. I have no problem with that," Treize said.

Treize might not have had a problem with it, but Wufei didn't like the idea too much. "I don't think so. I am quite capable of protecting Senator Kushrenada myself," he told them. "I don't need a group of novices getting in my way and giving me orders."

"Fine. Then we'll put Treize under house arrest for his own protection," Zechs told him. "Unless you go with a group of capable, trained agents who can protect the Senator."

Treize looked at Wufei. "I can fire you, Chang," he warned him.

Wufei could have cared less whether or not he was a bodyguard for a middle-aged pervert, and was about to tell Kushrenada that, when he concocted an idea that might just satisfy everyone, and most importantly, himself. "Alright," he said, "but I get to choose the agents that I bring with me in order to protect Treize. I get to take people who I know will take orders from me."

############################################

Chewing the meat wasn't Trowa's problem. The real problem was chewing the blackened meat, while smiling and feigning enjoyment at the same time.

"What do you think?" Quatre asked, with a steaming pot in one hand, a spatula in the other. He had been cooking non-stop, only taking a break to pop out of the kitchen, reminding Trowa that he had a great meal awaiting him at dinner.

Trowa strained to suppress his gag reflexes. If he didn't tell Quatre it was horrendous there was no telling when Quatre might stop preparing it for him. But to see Quatre's face when he told him that, "It's great darling," made every bite tasty.

"Oh, I'm so glad you like it. And guess what? I'm not even hungry. So you can have the rest and what you don't finish we can put in the fridge because this stuff really preserves well! Oh, I'm so glad you like it Trowa!" Quatre chirped. "We can make it again tomorrow night!"

"No!" 

"What do you mean?" Quatre asked him, perplexed.

"I mean…No, I don't want you to stress yourself out. You should really take it easy for a while and just let me order some pizza," he explained. Trowa knew he could take a few servings of whatever kind of meat it was before it would have serious effects on his health. 

Trowa suddenly laughed.

"What's so funny?" Quatre asked.

"Oh nothing," Trowa said. But that wasn't true. It was funny to think that there was a time in his life when eating anything at all would have been a blessing. It was funny how easy it was to forget all that, struggling to chew Quatre's mystery meat.

Trowa kissed his little cherub on the head. "I love you Quatre."

"You too, Trowa," Quatre said, curling up beside him. Trowa wrapped an arm around Quatre, taking a moment to enjoy the silence, as he wondered when all these quiet, precious moments would come to crashing to an end.

The phone rang.

"It's probably Duo," Quatre said.

"Yeah," Trowa said, weary. "I don't want to talk to Duo, again. For the fiftieth time today."

"Trowa, he needs us right now."

"I know. If I ever get the chance to see Heero Yuy again…" his voice trailed off as he clenched his fists. "I wonder if he has any idea how much he's hurt Duo?" 

"Would he care?" Quatre asked rhetorically.

Trowa turned, hesitantly picking up the phone. "Hello?" he asked.

"Barton," the voice barked. It wasn't Duo.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"It's Wufei Chang," the voice told him.

"Wufei? Really?" Trowa asked. Now _that_ was a surprise! If there were ever a person Trowa never expected to see after the wars it was Wufei Chang. For all he could tell, Wufei hated the other Gundam pilots' guts. Hell, Wufei hated everyone's guts, even his own.

"Yes. It's really Wufei Chang," he snarled. 

"I'm sorry Wufei, it's just that after the war you disappeared and never kept in touch with any of us. I just never expected to here from you again."

"Well, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't absolutely desperate after exhausting all my other options," the charming little Gundam pilot responded.

"Gee," Trowa said sarcastically, "nice to here from you again."

There was a slight choking sound on the other end of the phone followed by a prolonged silence. "Is there something you wanted to actually say?" Trowa asked.

"Look," Wufei muttered, "this isn't easy for me but I need to ask you for help. I need professional help."

"I know," Trowa said.

"I mean I need help from a professional!" Wufei shouted.

"Yeah, you do," Trowa told him.

"Shut up you stupid git! I need someone with warrior training and experience. The only reason I came to you is because you are quiet and subservient and I know that you will follow my orders!" Wufei explained.

Trowa considered hanging up.

"Don't hang up!" Wufei warned. 

Trowa decided to hear the psychotic little imp out. "What do you need Wufei?" 

"I need to assemble a group of professionals who can work as bodyguards for Senator Kushrenada this weekend at the Earth Sphere Summit in the Trinity islands. I came to you because you are capable and talented and the least annoying out of all the pilots. At least, you used to be."

Trowa smiled, that was the closest Wufei had ever come to a compliment. "Sure. I'll come along. But I want to bring Quatre with me," he said. Trowa looked over at Quatre who was waiting anxiously to hear what was going on.

"What is it? Where are we going?" Quatre chirped.

"The Trinity islands with Wufei. Bodyguard work," he said.

"Sounds like fun," Quatre chirped.

Wufei grumbled at the other end. "Sure, bring Winner. But tell him not to chirp too much."

"When should we meet you?" Trowa asked.

"I'll send transportation," Wufei said before hanging up the phone.

Trowa looked at Quatre. "We better get packing," he said. "A beautiful weekend at the tropical Trinity islands awaits us."

"Oh, I hear that they're very romantic," Quatre said, curling up next to Trowa. "I just hope we're not required to do too much work."

"Me too," Trowa told him. It would be nice to do a little mission again and in the meantime enjoy the white sand beaches. He had heard that the Trinity islands were beautiful this time of year.

Trowa went into the bedroom to get their suitcases. He started packing clothes and toothbrushes, as he thought of all the things that they must tend to before leaving.

"I turned the water off," Quatre told him, "and I packed some of your dinner in the Tupperware so you can eat it later." Quatre looked around for a second after hearing a barking in another room. "Here, Princess," he called.

Jangling her bells and collars, Princess, his fluffy golden retriever puppy, ran into his arms, licking his face. Trowa thought that there couldn't be anything cuter than a giggling Quatre holding an insanely happy puppy. It was like one of those Precious Moments greeting card images, that makes you want to puke and smile at the same time.

"Who's going to feed Princess while we're gone?" he asked. Quatre was very concerned with making sure Princess was well cared for. She was bathed daily, ate the most expensive dog food available and received a doggy pedicure every weekend. Quatre looked down at her little wet nose in concern. "Who's going to make sure she washes and is taken care of?" 

"Maybe Duo can take her in," Trowa suggested, not realizing what would happen at the mention of the name "Duo." He looked at Quatre, seeing his concern-o-meter spinning wildly out of control. 

"Who's going to feed Duo? And make sure he bathes?" asked Quatre. "We can't leave him, Trowa. We have to take him with us."

Trowa reluctantly agreed. "Alright. Give him a call," he said. Trowa couldn't take any more Duo! Since the three of them had moved into the penthouses, he had seen more of Duo than of Quatre. Maybe Duo was in need of some good friends but Trowa was in need of a break!

Quatre dialed his number.

################################################

Duo woke from his sleep on the sofa, swinging his tired legs into yesterday morning's pizza. He didn't mind though, as long as he could still feel his legs he figured he was all right. He stood, rubbing the side of his face, red and sore from being slept on.

Looking around the apartment, cluttered with empty pizza boxes and dirty clothes, he tried to remember what he had been doing. Looking at the television, he remembered watching a talk show when he dozed off. It was about overweight mothers, who were really big losers in high school, that dress too sexy. Some of those mothers really did dress much too sexy, a big problem these days, he thought. 

In the corner of his eye, afternoon light streamed through the cracks in the blinds. "Can't have that," he said to himself, as he tightened the blinds, squeezing out the sun. He considered, for a moment, getting showered and dressed, as if the glimpse of sun reminded him there was an outside world where people had to be presentable. But on second thought, he decided it might be easier to lay on the sofa, watching the adult movie channel. After all, it had been a while since he had seen "Frisky Summer 3," and the acting in it was really quite stellar. 

Suddenly, the phone rang. Ordinarily it wouldn't have been a problem for him to answer the phone but now, the phone was in the kitchen, at least three whole yards away, simply too far on a Monday morning. He figured after three rings it would turn off. It was probably just a telemarketer. They called a lot, turning out that they were pretty good for conversation every so often. 

But it didn't stop after three rings, so maybe it wasn't a telemarketer. Maybe it was Quatre and Trowa. But they never called him; he always called them. So who could it have been? Maybe it was Heero? Maybe he wanted to fix things between them? Or, maybe it was an emergency and Duo was the only person he, injured, bleeding, could turn to? 

Duo sprang from the couch, answering the phone. "Hello?" he answered. "Heero, are you alright?" 

"Ummm…Duo?" the voice on the other end asked him. It was Quatre.

"Oh…sorry, Quatre. I thought you were someone else," he said. 

"I'm not bothering you am I?" Quatre asked.

"Yeah, well I was just reading some Tolstoy before I started exercising. I wasn't really doing anything important. What's up?"

"Trowa and I are going to the Trinity islands this weekend. Wufei Chang called us, wanting help protecting a Senator at the Earth Sphere Summit. Well, we thought we should ask you if you would like to come with us. I thought it might be good for you to get out of your apartment," he explained.

Duo thought it over for a moment. Trinity was a tropical paradise. All sunshine, white sand, and golden men in thongs. It sounded nice, really nice. But Duo didn't know if he was up for it. He'd been feeling rather dumpy lately, seeing beautiful people in beautiful places wasn't going to make him feel any better about himself. "I don't know, Quatre…I just…I'm not feeling up to it."

"Oh, okay," Quatre said. "Trowa wants to talk to you." He transferred the phone to Trowa.

"Duo?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Quatre will be very upset if you don't join us. So pack your bags and be sure to bring a bathing suit. There will be lots of rich politicians there, if you're lucky you can seduce one. We'll be outside." With that he hung up.

Duo sighed. Maybe Trowa was right. The old Duo Maxwell enjoyed missions, adventure, exotic locales and rich men. The new Duo enjoyed porn, pizza and talk shows. There was obviously only one choice to be made.

Duo went to find his suitcase and pack his thong.

#################################################

"I've made arrangements, Senator," Wufei told him, shutting down his cell phone, placing it in his pocket. "Quatre Raberba-Winner and Trowa Barton will be joining us in Trinity."

"They're skilled Gundam pilots," Treize said, "but are they skilled bodyguards?" 

"I wouldn't call them skilled," Wufei said, "but they're capable."

Treize didn't find that all too reassuring. As much he hated to admit it, he was getting older and less sure he could survive another encounter like the one that evening. He found himself getting softer since the wars had ended, less weary of those around him, altogether more trusting. That was a good way to end up dead. 

Treize touched his chest the way someone might pinch himself to make sure they weren't dreaming. Things had happened so fast, he hadn't even taken the time to realize that he was in fact safe, living. He sighed heavily. Wufei turned to look at him.

"What's wrong with you?" he snarled.

"Well, Wufei," he said, "one moment I was sitting there with a gorgeous man, looking at the silver dragon on his back…" 

"Silver dragon?" Wufei asked.

"Yeah. He had this tattoo on his back. I had never seen anything like it before, a really intricate dragon design in silver ink. I had just taken the time to look at it and the next thing I know I'm being strangled. It's as if I'll never have the chance to just trust that everything around me is safe. Why must I always be alert? All the time?" he wondered.

"Because if we let our guard down, for even the slightest moment," Wufei said, "that's when the enemy strikes."

Treize sat, watching Wufei for a moment. He eyed his tense, rigid shoulders and back, wondering when Wufei last let his guard down. 


	3. Incident at the Trinity Ballroom

Chapter Three

Trowa was surprised how nice the Senator's jet turned out to be. Treize gave Quatre and he a posh cabin equipped with a velvet-furnished sofa, a king-sized waterbed and a mini-bar. He couldn't help but wonder whether the flight to Trinity would be more relaxing than the island nation itself.

Yet as comfortable as he was resting on that bed, and as excited as he was to be spending a week with Quatre in a beautiful paradise, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety in his gut. Maybe it was the knowing that even the smallest missions can carry fatal risks. On the other hand, maybe it was the fact that he always had a little ball of anxiety in his chest, and the happier he was, the bigger it got.

Why did he do this to himself? Why did he fill every today with worry for tomorrow? A click at the cabin door gave him the answer, as Quatre entered, reminding him of how much he might lose in the future. 

Quatre flopped down on the bed beside him with a sigh.

Trowa wrapped his arm around his little cherub, bringing him close to his chest. "What's going on outside?" Trowa asked him. 

"Well, Wufei looks angry," Quatre began.

"That's not surprising," Trowa told him. They'd have more to worry about if the boy were smiling. Then something would definitely be up. "And what about Duo? How is his mood? Do you think he's excited to get out of his apartment for the first time in months?"

Quatre giggled. "He's acting strange," he said, "I wanted to use the bathroom but he had locked himself in with one of the flight attendants. He said it was a special meeting of the Mile High Club and that I could come back in fifteen minutes."

Trowa sighed.

Quatre turned and looked at him. "What kind of club meets in a bathroom?"

"Don't worry about it darling," he said running his fingers through his light blonde hair. 

"You know, sometimes Trowa, I feel like everyone around me is laughing at some big inside joke that I don't get," Quatre told him. "And it bothers me because I think I have a pretty good sense of humor and I want to hear the joke."

"It's called innocence," Trowa told him, "and its worth more than a laugh."

Quatre closed his eyes, and soon he was asleep inside his arms.

"The sleep of the just," Trowa whispered, reaching for the vial of sleeping pills inside of his pocket.

###################################################

Treize watched the boy's blood spill onto the linoleum floor of the jet.

"Tissue?" he asked Wufei, extending a box of them to his young bodyguard.

The Chinese boy swiped them from his hands, and quickly rolled the tissues into two little white balls to plug his nostrils. "What are you looking at?" Wufei snarled at him.

"You just look ridiculous trying to be fierce with Kleenex stuffed up your nose," Treize commented, giggling. 

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be staring at me old man!" he growled. "I happen to have a medical condition which causes me to have nose bleeds! Do I laugh at you because you have a medical condition that makes you an obnoxious nymphomaniac?" 

Treize relaxed in his seat and smiled. "What medical condition is that? Acute fear of anything vaguely sexual?"

Wufei's face flushed with anger as he narrowed his eyes into angry slits. "Actually, if you must know I was about to use the bathroom when I opened the door to find that twit Maxwell being sucked off by one of those male flight attendants. I imagine you would have been shocked as well."

"Actually, I would have invited them back to my cabin. But that's just me," the Senator remarked as he approached the mini-bar and poured himself a drink. 

"Yes, that it is just you," Wufei told him.

Treize gestured to a bottle of brandy, offering him a drink.

"No," Wufei said. "I don't trust you for a minute."

Treize frowned. "Well, at least stay with me for a while until dinner is served. You might be an unsociable brat but I find your company irresistible." 

"You're a masochist. Kinky," Wufei commented. "I came here to ask you when we would be needed tonight."

"We'll go the hotel directly after we land," he said. "There is a party tonight for members of the Congress at the Trinity Ballroom and I'm expected to be in attendance. I'd like to have all three of you there in case anything should happen."

With that information, Wufei turned and left the cabin, only to see Maxwell and his new friend stumble out of the small bathroom stall, zipping up their pants and wiping off their mouths.

"Hey. Wufei," Duo smiled, "sorry about all that. The bathroom's free now."

Wufei began to feel a warm gush erupt behind the tissues in his nose. Why did Barton insist on bringing Maxwell?

######################################################

After only thirty minutes at the Trinity Ballroom, Wufei was already feeling extremely apprehensive. First, the Ballroom was massive, at least half a mile in circumference. To make it worse, Congressmen from all of the Earth and the Colonies, along with their companions and bodyguards, packed every square foot of that ballroom. Secondly, Treize was already completely out of his line of sight, making it more than a little difficult to protect him if there were to be a possible assassination. Although Wufei couldn't imagine an assassin would be able to get a clear shot at the Senator in a crowd this dense with middle-aged men in generic formal ware. 

Wufei touched a small button on his wristwatch and spoke into it. "Barton?"

"Wufei?" Barton's voice responded into Wufei's earpiece.

"I've lost sight of him completely. He's like a child, I need a leash for him," Wufei commented bitterly into his communicator.

"Don't worry. Quatre and I are sticking close to him," Barton told him. "Oh, and by the way, don't blame Treize for your shortcomings as a bodyguard," he added. "Barton out."

Wufei looked around in disgust. He did not even have the slightest bit of personal space to himself. Being stuck in a crowd of senators like Treize bothered the hell out of him. If they were all as horny and depraved as the Senator was, he stood little chance of making it through the night without them hitting on him. Not that he could really blame them, after all. 

While he was thinking of shameless nymphomaniacs, he decided to check in on Duo. "Maxwell?" he asked through his communicator.

"Yep. Maxwell here, what's up?" Duo asked.

"Just checking in. Any suspicious activity to report?"

"Well, I'm standing in a room full of middle-aged senators and none of them have propositioned me to be involved in a sordid sex scandal. I think that's quite suspicious don't you?"

"Actually, yes," Wufei told him.

"I'm still a little bummed about it. Do you know where they keep the alcohol at this place?" Duo asked.

"Hate to disappoint you, Maxwell," he said, "but they don't allow alcohol at Congressional parties any longer. Ever since Madeleine Albright's nude cabaret performance in '99, they've had strict rules against it. It's for the best, trust me." The memory of it still brought warms tears to his eyes and a twinge of pain to his heart.

"Anyway, I don't think you have anything to worry about Wufei. With me here, nothing is going to happen to Treize."

"This from the boy who was about to get drunk on duty. You're utterly useless, Maxwell. Chang out."

###############################################

"No alcohol," Duo muttered to himself looking around the ballroom. "That's a shame," he said, pulling a small glass container from the inside pocket of his tuxedo. "Luckily, Duo Maxwell comes prepared. Alcohol is the first tool of seduction after all."

He glided over to the punch bowl, where he discreetly poured the contents of the container into the mix. There was enough potency in that little bottle to keep Boris Yeltsin mildly subdued, more than enough to put the average man into a drunken, and hopefully, easy mood.

Duo leaned against the buffet table and scoped out the goods as they walked by. He wasn't sure what he wanted to go for first: looks or money. He could tell the rich men from the rest because they always felt the need to buy gaudy embellishments to their outfits like diamond-studded neckties or clunky, gold cufflinks. That was a rule: more money, less taste. That was one of the first rules of gold digging that he had ever learned and it hadn't failed him so far.

The next most important rule, and this usually applied to politicians: the larger the breasts of the prostitute on their arm, the more they want to sleep with a scandalously young man. This was also a tried and true Maxwell method.

Why bother digging cash out of balding, rich men when you already live in a posh penthouse courtesy of a good friend? Duo knew he really wanted a sophisticated, sexy lover that could screw the Heero Yuy out of his skull. That was also important. Maybe that was manipulative, but so far in his life, Duo hadn't once had sex with someone he loved. Heero hadn't loved him. That was obvious now. 

Duo poured himself a glass of spiked punch, and then another, and one more after that. By the time he poured the fourth glass, he was woozy and staring forlornly at his reflection in the drink. Thinking of Heero Yuy had effectively ruined his mood. He knew that looking as if you are almost about to cry wouldn't get him laid, and he wiped his eyes, resolving to be more aggressive in his pursuits.

"Excuse me," someone said from behind him.

Duo turned to find his eyes meeting the thick chest and broad shoulders of a very tall, very attractive man with crown of platinum blonde locks and moody blue eyes made of liquid valium. Duo sighed.

"Excuse me," he repeated.

Duo sighed.

"Excuse me," he repeated for the third time.

Duo sighed.

"Are you alright?" asked the young man with deep and immediate concern for the young pilot.

Duo sighed. "You need to have some punch."

"How'd you know?" the man asked, taking a glass from Duo.

"I don't know. Just drink it, dammit," Duo muttered as his jaw turned to slag from sheer awe.

The man downed the glass in a few seconds.

Damn, he even drinks sexy, Duo thought to himself.

"Wow! That really has a kick to it," the blonde said.

"Have another!" Duo insisted, pouring him a glass.

"I'm really not that thirsty," he said, refusing him.

"Nonsense! Have another! The caviar here is very salty and you'll be thirsty again in no time! Now drink!" Duo demanded with a smile.

"Okay," he said. He downed another. "Wow! That's got bite."

"You know, I find that after the third or fourth glass that rubbing alcohol taste starts to fade. Have another," Duo insisted.

The man looked at him with suspicion. "What makes you such a punch expert?"

"I made it. I hope you like it," he said handing him a third glass.

"Well," he said drinking the third, "in that case…I love it!"

Feeling suddenly dizzy, the man slung his arm around Duo's shoulder. Duo didn't waste a minute to move in and catch his entire body with his arms. Only five minutes after meeting him and he already had the man in his embrace, not bad! "Why don't you sit down with me? You look pretty tired," Duo suggested.

"Yeah. I feel real woozy now," he said. "All the lights feel so bright. I didn't realize how noisy it is in here until now, either," he told Duo as he rubbed his temples.

"If you like," Duo said, "I could take you back to my room at the hotel across the street. I'm sure it would be quiet and the bed's more than enough for two people to sleep in," he suggested. In fact, Duo began to wonder if the bed was big enough for three people…that might be fun.

"Actually, I can't," he explained. "I have to be going somewhere, I should have been there like yesterday."

"Then go do what you need to," Duo said, patting him on the back. "And meet me in the lounge when you're done!"

The man smiled at him. "I'd like that. What's your name?" he asked.

"Duo. How about you?"

"York. I'm York," he said, before stumbling off drunk.

"Score!" Duo whispered to himself.

#################################################

"Do you see Treize anywhere?" Quatre asked, pouring himself a glass of punch. 

Trowa looked around the crowded ballroom, wiping the weariness from his eyes. They had been standing around following the Senator from table to table, friend to friend, acquaintance to acquaintance, constituent to constituent for the last three hours. There hadn't been one moment for them to sit down and rest, much less enjoy the party. Trowa began to feel foolish for even thinking that he might enjoy this trip to Trinity. "I lost him five minutes ago," Trowa told him. "But luckily the crowd is starting to thin out a little."

Quatre activated his wristwatch communicator. "Wufei?" he asked.

"Chang, here," he responded.

"We lost Senator Kushrenada. Trowa and I are getting pretty tired too."

"I'll keep my eyes open," Wufei said. "You two can just relax for the rest of the night. Security is tight here; they have metal detectors at every entrance so I doubt anyone is going to get in here carrying any unauthorized weapons. Chang out."

Quatre came up from behind Trowa wrapping his arms around his waste. "Good news, darling. Wufei said that we can relax for the rest of the evening." He poked his head over Trowa's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

"What do you say we get out of this dump?" Trowa asked.

Quatre looked around. "Maybe," he said, "but look. They're starting to dim the lights and the band just started up. Why don't we dance? We haven't danced in months."

"That's because I can't dance," Trowa explained. Trowa hated this subject. It made him think about Quatre's upbringing: his family was rich, well-bred, talented at art, music, dancing and all those other things Trowa never knew much of during his childhood. He often wondered whether Quatre wouldn't have been better off with someone in his own class, who could talk to him about these kinds of things. 

Quatre tried to smile, not to look disappointed as the other couples took to their feet and began to slow dance. He just held tighter to Trowa's waist. "It's okay, honey. It doesn't really matter anyhow."

Quatre was let down though, Trowa could tell when he tried to hide that sort of thing in his voice. He should have tried dancing with him, but he couldn't, he felt to uncomfortable around all these rich people. It was as if they were looking at him, looking past his nice clothes, knowing that he wasn't one of them. He couldn't explain it to Quatre, he wouldn't understand. He slipped Quatre's arms from off of his waist. "Let's get out of here, cherub."

"But, I'm having fun. It reminds me of the parties my father used to throw when I was a child," he told him. Quatre tried to hold Trowa again, but he just pushed him away. "What's wrong, Trowa?" he asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I just don't feel well. I think I'll leave. I don't want to get in the way of you having fun." Trowa began to walk away from Quatre, heading towards the exit at the far right of the room.

"I'm not going to be happy without you," Quatre whispered just loud enough for Trowa to hear.

He stopped. Suddenly there was a large boom, like an explosion or truck crashing into the ballroom. The dancing came to a standstill, and the music to a screeching halt as the sound lingered for a split second before there were a group of screams and then darkness. Complete darkness. Every light in the ballroom cut off, not leaving even the slightest stream of illumination.

"Trowa!" he heard Quatre cry out in the midst of thousands of gasps, and panicked screams. He felt his love's arms wrap around him again. In the darkness, he could feel Quatre's heart pound, frightened, against his chest. "Don't leave me Trowa!" 

"It's alright," Trowa told him, squeezing him tight inside his arms.

"Was that a gunshot, Trowa?" he asked. "You don't think an assassin made it through, do you?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Trowa told him. All his years of training as a pilot and soldier told him to be alert, looking for Treize despite the pitch black. All he could think though, was how nice it was to hold Quatre in the dark, where everyone was equal, and no one could see his scars or smell his heritage.

###################################################


End file.
